Twelve Steps
by thebrokencradle
Summary: Thomas and Sampson come from completely different walks of life. Their age gap is like an age canyon. It only makes sense that they are drawn together. A peek at their relationship. SLASH. ThomasxSampson
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay... I'm not personally a big fan of Digimon. Just to put that one out there. I'm a fan of the characters and the intrigue behind their personalities, but i'm not a fan of the series itself. My brother is actually the one who makes me watch it when I baby sit him and I so totally had to perv the innocent series up by believing that there was something between the Commander Sampson and Thomas Norstein... Yeah, The big guy has a lolita complex... Anyway... Please don't flame me for this. Don't like? Don't read, simple as that. Comments are love and I believe in spreading the love so please comment if you read this story.

Sampson stared at the box on his desk as Thomas read the report he had written on his and Marcus' most recent mission. It was a plain white box, no ribbons or strings or anything on it. Just like he liked things, simple and no strings attached. How he had gotten mixed up in DATS was anyone's guess.

"Sir?" Sampson looked up as Thomas stared at him quizzically. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, fine." Sampson shook himself, straightening in his seat. "Continue."

Thomas paused before returning to reading his report. Sampson watched the younger man carefully behind his tinted glasses, his fingers laced in front of his face as he let his gaze wander over Thomas' body.

He was slender but muscular from his years of training smooth and soft, unlike Sampson's own battle-scarred form. Blonde hair feathered over his blue eyes and his mouth was always trained into a thin line. He placed a hand on his spandex-clad hip and Sampson's eyes were automatically drawn down there as Thomas tapped his thumb against his hip.

Damnit, why did they have to wear such tight clothes? He could see… What couldn't he see? Sampson tried to tear his gaze away but found the task impossible when Thomas' thumb moved to rub his hip in rhythmic circles.

Did the boy know what he was doing to his commander?! Did he enjoy teasing and pulling out these reactions from the older man?

Sampson looked up to say something but found himself speechless at the smirk gracing Thomas' usually cool and emotionless features.

"Is there something you would like, Sir?" Thomas asked innocently and Sampson felt his fists and stomach clench as he silently stared at his subordinate. His fourteen year old subordinate. Who was a genius. And a conniving little minx. And was placing the report on his desk next to the box. "Happy Birthday, Sir." Thomas stated softly before turning to leave, the door hissing shut behind him.

Sampson stared after the boy before moving his gaze to the box on his desk. He reached over and removed the lid, staring down at the thick, warm yellow scarf before him. He blinked, picking up the simple object. A note fluttered out of it to the floor and the commander leaned down to pick it up. He recognized Thomas' handwriting on the thin slip of paper.

'Wishing I was the one wrapped around your neck. ~~ Thomas'

Sampson blinked at the note before smirking, leaning back in his chair with the scarf in hand.

"What do you plan on doing?" Kudamon asked as he walked over to Sampson's desk, bounding onto the surface before climbing up to wrap around Sampson's neck, staring at the scarf curiously.

"Asking permission in like terms." Kudamon smirked at his partner's reply, flicking his tail gently as he chuckled at the entire affair.

It was a fascinating experience to be sure.

*

Thomas hadn't expected a present on his birthday from anyone other than his sister. His father was never one for such blatant shows of affection and his servants barely gave him a polite "yes, sir". He blinked and looked at James, his butler.

"Who gave you this?"

"An older man, sir, he said he didn't trust the mail and that he wanted to deliver it personally."

Thomas smirked and stood, taking the package with him, unwrapping the plain blue paper. Inside was a black leather and white mink coat and a neatly written note. Thomas flipped open the note and recognized his commander's precise handwriting.

'A mink coat for the minx, fitting?'

The note wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. Thomas smirked and pulled out the coat. It was short, only coming up to just below his ribcage, and seemed tailored to fit his body, the cuffs, collar and hem were lined with the soft white mink along with the inside, the smooth black leather on the outside complementing the opposing textures nicely. Thomas pulled the coat on and smirked, fingering the zipper as he pulled it halfway up, looking out the window of his estate with a thoughtful look.

"What are you going to do now?" Gaomon asked, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.

"I have several ideas… But for now we can keep it simple…" Thomas turned to his Digimon and tilted his head. "Gaomon?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you think I was a minx?"


	2. Chapter 2

Date

*

AN: Songs good for when they are in the club: "Feel So Right", "Sad Tango" and "Slowly" all by the Japanese artist Rain.

Not many people could quite make the connection between Commander Sampson and Richard Sampson. To many the commander was inhuman, he didn't seem to fit in anywhere but inside of DATS. No one could imagine him without his customary trench coat, tinted glasses and Kudamon firmly wrapped around his neck.

Thomas was therefore surprised by the man that met him on the peir just outside of DATS on Firday evening. Sampson wore a fitted brown leather jacket, tan slacks, brown boots and a deep blue turtleneck sweater with a very familiar yellow scarf around his neck in replacement of Kudamon. He still wore a pair of angular sunglasses, but he seemed so much more… Human.

Thomas stopped in front of Sampson, likewise clad in his civilian clothes, smiling as he took in the sight of the older man gazing out across the water.

"You shouldn't dress like this any more often." Thomas stated nonchalantly as he sauntered forward. "People might actually think you were human." Sampson's lips quirked upward as Thomas looked up at his commander. "Well? You said you wanted to take me somewhere for dinner."

Sampson chuckled and straightened, leaning forward to ruffle Thomas' hair, much to his chagrin and protest.

"Come on, then, it's not far."

They walked for a good half an hour, talking about pointless things before they arrived at a Kaiten-zushi bar. Thomas smiled at his companion as they entered, sitting down next to the commander in front of the small conveyer belt. He instantly snatched up some Nigiri and Gunkan, watching as Sampson grabbed for four dishes before he began eating.

They remained at the restaurant for well over an hour and Thomas found himself amazed at the sheer amount the man could eat. The Sushi Chefs didn't seem bothered and managed to keep up a steady stream of food not only for Sampson but for the other customers as well. The man himself seemed more than capable of eating and carrying on a conversation with no problems in etiquette or breathing. He remained politely attentive and would allow Thomas to speak as freely as he wanted, never judging or criticizing the young boy.

It was odd. Thomas was so used to people looking down at him because of his age or upbringing, never taking into account that he had achieved what most men took years, decades, to achieve in fourteen short years. He was unused to being respected for his opinions and abilities. It made him slightly nervous but he found himself relaxing in this man's presence with each passing minute.

After an hour and a half they were finished and Sampson walked to the register. The cashier grinned at Sampson before nodding to Thomas, whispering something that the younger boy couldn't hear. Sampson's body stiffened and his jaw set in a way that Thomas was all too familiar with as he received his change. It made him wonder what the man had said…

"Do you like dancing?" Sampson asked as they left the bar, beginning to walk towards a bus stop.

"I'm not very good at anything other than the waltz." Thomas sheepishly admitted. Dancing and having fun had never been one of his priorities.

"That's not what I asked." Sampson chided and Thomas realized that he hadn't really answered the question. He paused, thinking over his answer as the bus arrived.

"I suppose I like the idea of it… I've never had the chance to actually dance with someone other than at some debutante ball or somesuch."

Sampson seemed to accept this answer as they sat down side by side, Thomas gazing out the window, leaning against his much larger companion. He felt so small next to this man who dwarfed him in age and physique. He had taken down men Sampson's size but he doubted that he could ever do so with Sampson himself.

The bus stopped and Sampson stood, gesturing for Thomas to follow. The young man did so and looked around. There was a bus map next to where they were standing and the "you are here" star had the name "Shinjuku" underneath it. The neighborhood had bright lights despite the slightly cramped conditions. There were numerous bars, clubs and cafes, each one proclaiming their name proudly with hundreds of advertising billboards and electric signs surrounding them.

"Why are we here?"

"This is my neighborhood." Sampson smiled down at Thomas, the young boy blinked and looked around again, surprise on his face. Sampson lived in this area? It didn't seem like him at all, but then again, it made sense. Japanese people were known to be small. Sampson towered over everyone he met, his broad body making him stand out in a crowded room. In the middle of a city he would be able to easily vanish and people wouldn't pay him a second glance.

Sampson had taken Thomas' hand, the most contact they had had that night, and led him through the bustling streets. They came upon a large two story club with "Casablanca" written in bold, elegant script. Sampson looked at the entrance, which was still pretty clear so early in the night, and walked up to the bouncer, he leaned forward and whispered something in the man's ear, nodding to Thomas, who was standing with his hip cocked and a hand on it haughtily, daring the man to say anything about his age.

The bouncer frowned before nodding and letting them both in, Thomas looking at his companion with a raised eyebrow.

"This is a gay club."

"Yes." Sampson looked at the blonde with an amused look. "And? Shinjuku is a mostly gay district."

"I'm not even eighteen."

Sampson stopped and pulled Thomas back slightly against his side as a R&B song with a heavy bass line began to play.

"I told him you had graduated college, he didn't ask an age."

"Guilty by omission." Thomas murmured as the much older man placed large hands on his slender hips, moving so that they were chest to chest.

"Guilty of a lot of things." Sampson whispered, his hand sliding down Thomas' thigh before returning to his hips, guiding him through the rhythm. Thomas tilted his head back and raised his arms over his head, allowing his date to move his hips while his upper body found the rhythm of the music as well.

After a while he began to move on his own, his body pulsing and moving with the music, his lithe body dancing around and with Sampson's own much larger form. Slender hands slid up the dark-haired man's chest to his shoulders before fanning out and sliding down his arms to his forearms, feeling the thick muscles beneath the clothing. He wanted to feel more, he had touched and he didn't think he could stop now that he started.

The brown leather jacket was soon being shoved down, stopped by Sampson's elbows as the older man watched Thomas with amusement, the young man squeezing and palming his upper arms and abdomen, smoothing his hands over his broad chest before feathering down his sides, all the while keeping to the beat of the song.

Thomas was suddenly pulling the older man down, tracing his sharp facial features and combing long fingers through short hair. Sampson found the air suddenly lacking, the young boy's hot breath suffocating him deliciously as their bodies moved together.

The song ended and Thomas blinked, blue eyes widening and face heating in embarrassment as he pulled away.

"Do you want a drink?" Sampson asked, leading his partner off the dance floor to one of the smaller booths nearby.

"A water, please." Thomas shyly murmured and Sampson nodded, determined to get himself a strong alcoholic beverage so that he at least had an excuse to allow his sanity temporary leave.

Thomas placed his hands against the cool table before pressing them against his face, trying to stop the incessant burning in his cheeks. He had never danced like that before. Everything he had known dancing to be had been stiff, rigid conformity with reasonable boundaries set and maintained, steps that could be memorized and recited easily. What he had done with his commander – with Sampson, damnit! – had not been dancing as he knew it. It was something far more intimate that he was finding to be dangerous.

"Hey there, sweetness." A man sidled up to Thomas, his breath reeking of alcohol and his eyes half lidded as he looked down at Thomas, gaze travelling down his body before making the trip back up to his face. "Nice legs, when do they open."

"Never." A deep voice stated from behind the man and Thomas looked up to see a very pissed looking Sampson looming over the man. Even in civilian clothes he managed to command obedience in others. The man shrunk visibly.

"Says who, old man?"

"Says me, now move before I decide to call security."

"Make me." The man spat and Sampson had moved before the last word left his mouth. Thomas wasn't quite sure what his superior did to the other man. But the next thing he knew was Sampson sitting next to him with his arm along the back of the booth, glaring at the other club patrons as he nursed a beer, a glass of water in Thomas' own hands.

"What just happened?" Thomas asked no one in particular and Sampson smirked.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." He murmured and Thomas blinked at him before smiling.

"You told a joke."

"I'm allowed to."

"I just wasn't sure if you were able to." Thomas murmured and Sampson leaned over, ghosting his mouth over the blonde's ear.

"Don't make me hurt you."

"As if you could hurt someone like me." Thomas playfully scoffed, flicking his bangs from his face in a flirtatious manner. He was suddenly very aware of how close the older man was and how warm his frame seemed to be. He didn't expect the sharp nip to his ear and gasped at the sudden sensation, turning to look at his companion, who was wearing a smug expression. He looked like the cat that ate the canary.

"You bit me!"

"It was a love bite." Sampson nuzzled Thomas' ear and jaw affectionately and the blonde stared at him.

"You're drunk."

"It's only one beer, and I can hold my alcohol."

"Wouldn't have pinned you as the affectionate type."

"In our line of work there are many things we have to hide." Sampson whispered and Thomas could hear the regret. He paused before turning and tracing the larger man's jaw with his fingertips before wrapping his hand around his thick neck, pulling him down to a soft kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I can't believe I'm continuing this... Oh, and the Twelve Steps? Yeah, those are acurate. I know because I go to Al-Anon, AA and Cornerstone meetings because of Alcoholism. I think I'm starting to incorporate a bit more of personal experience in this story...

Sometimes it was hard to remember that even though they held the most powerful creatures in the palm of their hands and took on similar monsters on their normal work days that they were all just human after all.

Which was why Thomas was surprised when he got a call from Sampson's cell phone but it wasn't the man it belonged to that was speaking.

"Are you Thomas Nordstein?" The feminine voice asked and Thomas blinked as he gaped into the receiver of his phone.

"Y-yes?"

"Well your boyfriend is drunk on my barroom floor and if he's not out of here in an hour I will call the cops." The woman stated huffily and Thomas felt a rise of panic in his chest. He knew that the commander could sometimes be somewhat… reckless… but it was difficult to imagine him drunk on some seedy downtown bar floor. "The bar is called the Black Rabbit, it's down in Shinjuku district."

The woman hung up and Thomas sighed, standing up and pulling on his coat so that the cold Japanese winter weather wouldn't affect him.

*

When he got to the bar and told James to wait outside for him he hardly expected the chaos inside.

Sure enough, there was Sampson passed out cold on the floor amongst his own blood and piles of broken glass, pools of alcohol enhancing the putrid smell of blood and carnage. Sampson's glasses were shattered and he looked like he had a broken nose and split lip. No bones seemed to be broken but the same couldn't be said about some of the other customers. Several of the other bar patrons were sitting with raw steaks to their heads and faces, arms and legs temporarily set and glaring daggers at the drunk on the floor.

Thomas sighed as he looked to heaven and prayed for strength, trying to shoulder Sampson's dead weight. He grunted and managed to half-carry half-drag his… boyfriend… out of the bar and into his car.

"Go home, James."

"Yes, Master Thomas."

*

Sampson groaned as he regained consciousness, the feeling of his head splitting apart telling him that he would be suffering through a mother of a hangover.

He pried his eyes open and immediately wish he hadn't.

Because the first image he saw was that of upset blue eyes and young lips pressed into a thin disapproving line.

"You have no right to say anything about Marcus being reckless and looking for fights." Thomas stated firmly and Sampson groaned, pressing his face into a pillow as if to smother himself with it. "Do you even know how many drinks you had?"

"Five?"

"Your blood-alcohol levels were high enough to kill you. I'm surprised we're even having this conversation."

Guilt wormed its way into Sampson's chest and he groaned again, hating the feeling of actual guilt over his actions.

"I was worried about you." Thomas whispered and Sampson forced himself to sit up and look at his boyfriend. "When the owner called me and said you were drunk on her floor I thought you had done something dangerous." Thomas had his back to him and Sampson felt his heart break as he scooted to the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around the younger man and pulling him into a tight bear-hug.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Thomas sighed, looking up at his boyfriend. "If you were sorry you would stop drinking and actually go to your meetings."

Sampson looked away, feeling a weight drop on his shoulders as the subject reared its ugly head again.

He knew he was an alcoholic. His father had been one as well as his mother and Uncle. Most of his family members were alcoholics as well. It was something of a genetic thing, he supposed. The only difference was that none of them cared about whether they all had the same problem, they would bitch and nit-pick one another about each others' issues rather than look at themselves and admit what their own faults were.

"If you go to Al-Anon, I'll go to AA. Deal?" Sampson sighed and Thomas thought the idea over before sighing and nodding.

"Deal." The young blonde turned and gently kissed his commander, nuzzling his cheek with his nose affectionately. "You're going to be the death of me."

*

"Hi, My name is Chrissy, I'm married to an alcoholic, and well…"

Thomas wondered what had possessed him to come to this. There were very few situations that made Thomas feel uneasy, and this was one of them. He was in a room with only women and all of them were either married to an alcoholic or dating an alcoholic or had family who were alcoholic. They were mostly women in their twenties and forties who looked tired, bedraggled and unkempt but hopeful and determined at the same time. Thomas felt slightly lost amidst these women who spoke about "twelve steps" and "the disease of alcoholism".

When the meeting was over with, closed with a prayer and a catch phrase, Thomas was about to leave when a woman stopped him.

"Hey, Thomas." He paused and turned, trying to not let his body language say just how much he wanted to leave. He recognized her as Bibi, a young woman dating an alcoholic who was an alcoholic herself at one time. "You didn't really get a chance to talk today, huh?"

"It's fine." Thomas whispered and Bibi gave him a look that told him that no, it was not fine.

"Listen here, I believe that "good", "okay" and "fine" are not ways to describe anything, so let's try this again. You didn't really get a chance to talk today, huh?"

"I… Didn't have anything to say."

Bibi seemed to take this as an answer, smiling and nodding.

"That's okay your first meeting. But you keep coming back and you'll open up." Bibi shoved her hands into her ratty coat pockets, smiling as she stood before him, so much woman and yet still looking delicate and slender. "I know how hard it is coming into the meetings and feeling like you don't fit in." She smiled at him reassuringly. "But it's okay. We all have different lifestyles and stories but they all sound similar once you listen and open up."

"Yeah…" Thomas glanced down the hall of the community center, seeing the AA meeting beginning to disperse, catching sight of Sampson talking with another man.

"Hey, I'll see you around, alright?" Bibi caught the young boy in a hug before walking off down the hall, grabbing a young woman and pulling her to her side. Thomas watched in astonishment as Bibi leaned down and kissed the other woman, comfortably slung over her like some sort of human coat.

"You ready to go?" Thomas blinked and looked up at Sampson, smiling at the man and nodding, wrapping his arm around Sampson's forearm.

"Yeah."

"Did you have dinner before you left?"

"No, do you want some?" Thomas felt himself relaxing around his boyfriend, comfortable in actually being a civilian for a bit.

"It would be nice."

*

Thomas stared at the small pamphlet he had been given by the chairperson of the meeting he had gone to, remembering what she had told him to do.

"Read one page a night, it doesn't matter what page or what it contains, so long as you read one."

Thomas sighed and opened the small booklet to the first page

"The Al-Anon Twelve Steps:

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.

Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God _as we understood Him._

Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Step 5: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

Step 6: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

Step 7: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, _as we understood Him_, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Thomas sighed as he finished reading the page, staring at the first line. He was on Step One and it looked like an easy enough step.

Would be surprised at how wrong he was.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry to all you watcher who haven't seen much action on this fic! I was just finishing cleaning out my hard drive when I found it and freaked out cause I realized I needed to continue! I sorry!

Neither could really be sure when they got keys to each others' homes. Perhaps it was when Thomas finally realized just how uncomfortable Sampson felt about having to tell James that he was there to see Thomas and having the butler locate the boy for him. Perhaps it was when Sampson began coming home to find Thomas waiting outside of his apartment. Either way they had soon exchanged house keys and it wasn't unusual to find them at one another's home.

Sampson sighed as he rolled out of bed Saturday morning, stretching and moving to sit on the edge of his bed, looking over to see the other half of his small bed empty. He frowned and heard something in the kitchen, standing up and going to investigate. He smiled at the sight of Thomas wearing one of his large tee shirts and a pair of jeans, cooking something in a frypan. Thomas jumped when a pair of thick arms wrapped around his waist, relaxing into the broad chest when he realized who it was.

Sampson looked at the pancakes in the frypan, surprised that Thomas had been able to cook them. Sampson himself had proven time and time again that he was the more domestic of the two, Thomas succeeding in almost destroying the kitchen on more than one occasion. The most memorable of which involved trying to warm up a cup of tea for a stressed out Sampson but not realizing that you don't put the tea bags in the microwave. The staple caught fire and Sampson had to buy a new microwave but that was the extent of the damage.

"I'm trying not to burn them." Thomas murmured as Sampson began to gently kiss his neck.

"Mm… Good work…" A long lick and Thomas shuddered, glaring at his boyfriend. They had been together for almost five months now and Sampson had proven himself to be far more affectionate towards certain people, Thomas being one of the few, in private. It was a wonderful experience, to feel actual genuine affection, but it was annoying when he was trying to concentrate on something else. "Carry on with what you were doing." Sampson murmured, still nibbling at Thomas' neck, finding the pulse point and manipulating it carefully. Thomas whimpered and elbowed the older man in the stomach, causing him to grunt and pull away with a slightly hurt look on his face.

"Do you want breakfast or not?" Thomas groused, glaring at the older man.

"You're not a morning person, are you?" Sampson asked, chuckling as he leaned against a counter to watch his boyfriend.

"No, I prefer it when my days start after ten in the morning."

It was slightly amusing that Thomas was awake before nine, making breakfast no less, both things he didn't normally do.

"Ha!" Thomas stood before Sampson with the plate of pancakes, grinning like a madman. "Happy Valentine's Day!" Sampson blinked before chuckling, taking the plate and kissing his young lover on the forehead.

"So that's it." He chuckled, ruffling already mussed up blonde tresses. "Thank you, and Happy Valentines Day to you too."

They had just settled down to eat when they got the call.

A new Digimon had appeared and Thomas needed to go with Marcus to retrieve it.

Thomas sighed as he flopped onto the couch of Sampson's apartment, finding the overly soft, squishy seat incredibly comforting for his sore body.

"It went that well?" Sampson chuckled as he sat beside Thomas, the blonde lifting his head before letting it flop bonelessly back onto the larger man's lap.

"You read the report." Thomas sighed, eyes closed as Sampson began to stroke his hair.

"Report's don't tell just how hard it is to procure a Digimon." Sampson leaned down and nibbled Thomas' lower lip, the boy sighing and allowing his mouth to fall open under the tender assault.

"Sometimes I really hate DATS." Thomas sighed and Sampson nodded, grunting in agreement as he moved to Thomas' jaw and neck. Thomas jumped and blushed, grabbing a hold of the older man's hair. "Not there! Everyone can see that!" He protested, shoving Sampson's face away. The older man merely grinned and moved further down, just below the loose collar of the blonde's unbuttoned shirt, nosing against the flesh affectionately. "You are hopeless." Thomas sighed, stroking Sampson's hair gently. The older man purred and nuzzled Thomas' cheek, the boy humming contentedly as his partner lavished him with attention.

Sampson reluctantly pulled away after a few minutes when the phone began ringing. Sampson moved to answer it but Thomas was quicker, the younger man grabbing the phone and answering it.

"Hello?"

"Uh… Wait- what? Thomas?" Marcus' shocked voice filtered over to Sampson and the older man was surprised. How did the boy get that number.

"Yes…" Thomas smirked at his lover as Sampson attempted to snatch the phone away. Marcus certainly didn't need to know where Thomas spent his free time – more specifically who he spent it with.

"Uh… Is… Uh… Commander Sampson in?"

"Sampson is a bit preoccupied at the moment." Thomas smirked at his lover. "Call back later."

He hung up and tossed the phone away, Sampson staring at him for a moment in shock. Thomas reached up and removed the triangular shades, staring into deep blue eyes fondly.

"You know what is going to happen when Marcus makes the connection."

"He's a big boy, he can handle it." Thomas murmured, pulling the older man down. "And besides, I get jealous easily."

They kissed for a few moments, Sampson pressing his smaller lover to the couch firmly while Thomas hooked his legs around his waist. The older man pulled away once more, this time to press his forehead to Thomas', their noses brushing gently as he spoke.

"I want you to know… There is only you." Thomas smiled and kissed Sampson gently.

"I know…"


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I know, from personal experience, just how much the actions of an alcoholic affect those who love you. I was an alcoholic and while I was drinking I had a girlfriend who would stay up all night worrying about what I was doing, if I was getting drunk or if I was even alive. I kinda dedicate this chapter to her and all the nights she spent staying up in my apartment worrying about my drunkard arse.

Thomas sighed as he tossed and turned. He was having difficulty sleeping again and he knew why. He had gone by Sampson's house earlier after work and the older man hadn't come home, even after nine o'clock at night. Thomas had considered staying but the empty apartment was not as comforting as it was when Sampson was there. So he had come home, taken a shower and gone to bed.

Only to toss and turn when he wasn't getting out of bed to check the phone messages.

Where was he?

Thomas could picture a hundred different scenarios of what could have happened. Half of them were related to drinking.

He knew that Sampson was struggling, as much as the man tried to keep up a strong front. He still went to the meetings and Thomas would search every new grocery bag brought into the apartment for liquor (which he thankfully never found), but the work of being in DATS and the sheer stress of just being Richard Sampson was getting to the older man.

Thomas sighed as he got up for the fifteenth time in the past four hours and grabbed the phone, pacing his room as the feminine, vocorded voice told him once more:

"You have no new messages."

Thomas let out a frustrated growl and paced the room, running his fingers through his blonde hair angrily. He finally stopped and looked at the nightstand beside his bed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and walked over to the drawer, opening it for the first time that night and pulling out the well-worn Al-Anon booklet.

"Step Two:" He read aloud. It always seemed to give the statement more value when he read something aloud. He found this especially true with the Al-Anon literature he was constantly being given. "We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." He blinked at the next step and continued. "Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives to the care of God _as we understood him_."

Thomas looked up, frowning. He had long ago ceased believing that God cared about him. He struggled every day and suffered so much from his family and his past. How could God possibly be helping him by allowing him to suffer?

But… A small voice in the back of the boy's head whispered. If you hadn't suffered, you wouldn't be here today. You wouldn't be with Satsuma, you wouldn't know DATS existed… You'd be just another teenage boy…

Thomas stared at the third step, written in calm, plain text. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"Alright… I admit… I can't make myself better, I can't fix everything and I certainly can't fix myself on my own… I need your help… I need you to tell me…" Tears spilled down Thomas' cheeks and he had to hold in his sob. "What do I DO?"

The digital clock read 3:43 a.m. by the time the phone began to ring softly. Thomas shifted and groaned in his sleep as the answering machine picked up. Satsuma's voice echoed, slightly obscured, around the room as he left a message.

"Hey, Thomas… I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, the board of directors had long chat with me… I'm alright and I'm sorry if you worried about me… I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise…" A long pause and then a soft, "I love you." And the click of the connection being cut.


End file.
